Absolution
by forever fan
Summary: The sins of omission need forgiveness too. Part five of the journal series of stories.


**Title:** Absolution

**Author:** Forever Fan

**Rating:** T

**Spoilers:** A few

**Category:** Romance/Supernatural

**Disclaimer:** This property belongs to David Gerber Productions and FOX Television.

I make no profit and intend no infringement. The partial lyrics for the song "At Last" used here without permission but with respect. The late, great Etta James will be missed.

**Summary:** The sins of omission need forgiveness too. Part five of the journal series of stories.

**Feedback:** Yes, please

**Journal: His **

The morning Phoebe showed up at the house, my children had been trying (unsuccessfully) to convince me they could get along without a live-in housekeeper. Breakfast was a disaster and I told the disappointed Hal: "I'm afraid it's like any other experiment; even when you have the right ingredients, if the timing is off you're in big trouble." Well, those words certainly came back to me during the hours, days and even weeks after my elopement with Phoebe. The reactions of the children, both extended families, and even friends, co-workers and neighbors seemed to be a combination of shock, surprise, anger, and smarmy conjecture. To say we were shocked, surprised and angry is an understatement. I was so overjoyed with our marriage I couldn't believe everyone else wasn't just as happy. Although there were some sincere well-wishers, most of the time we both found ourselves justifying our decision – and our relationship – to everyone. And I was getting tired of the implication, spoken or unspoken, that it was time I had made an honest woman of Phoebe – and when was the baby due?

The hope that the children were adjusting was less accurate than to say they were simply "getting used" to the idea. Slowly they began to refer to Phoebe as their "stepmother", Prudence being the first one to break down and call her "Mommy." I knew my kids were feeling strange about the entire situation: Hal buried himself in school work, and actually missed his curfew twice. Butch got into a few scrapes on the playground, nothing too serious, but he did have to stay after school on detention for a week. And Prudence was playing alone more frequently, talking quietly with her dolls as if trying to figure out the new family arrangement on her own. I walked around feeling guilty – I knew they felt very left out of my life right now – and that was unfortunately familiar to me. The kids and I had fallen into a similar pattern just after Mary had died. We were just getting to a place where we were communicating again, but obviously not thriving, when Phoebe arrived. Then she picked up all of the broken pieces of our lives and allowed us to be a fully functioning family again. That was why I had thought when Phoebe joined our family permanently the kids would be thrilled. They needed a mother in their lives as much as I needed a wife, but I guess the timing in this experiment was so off that now there was hell to pay.

As for how Phoebe and I were getting along, the increasing tension from the outside world was taking its toll. We continued to get along great in the bedroom – better than great – but I began to realize that wasn't making things much better when dealing with everyone else or each other outside of the bedroom. I was behaving like a typical man and substituting the intimacy of sex for good communication in our entire relationship and wanting to believe if the sex was great, then we had no problems. I had to admit we did very little talking those first two weeks or so. I guess there was a part of me dependent on her intuition as a tool to allow me to avoid speaking about my feelings and concerns. And the sleep deprivation from all of those late nights making love made me edgy during the day at times. However, I wouldn't have given that up for anything! Still, we needed to find a way to reconnect with one another before sooner or later I would be compromising the most fulfilling relationship of my life.

I started to realize that the differences between Phoebe and I were becoming more obvious in our marriage. We see the world very differently and have different expectations. What was exciting and enticing in our domestic _working _roles became challenging in our new relationship. There seemed to be a need to relearn how to communicate with one another; after all, not talking had brought us some problems. Two years of not expressing our feelings had us rushing into a decision that didn't seem in the least impulsive – it was something we both knew was right. And as much as I would never regret my decision to marry Phoebe, I have to admit that _talking_ about it first – and at least including with the children – might have brought us to a better place than just going along with all of our intense _emotions._ For the first time in my life I didn't over think a situation and that hadn't worked out as well as I'd hoped it would.

Phoebe's evasiveness and reliance on her own intuition not only allowed me to be less than straight forward, it allowed her to hide her true feeling too. And that was how she dealt with her own emotions, how she related to me, and how she managed things with her family – including the children. Although we had come to the same decision together, I had to admit I honestly didn't know what she thought or how she felt about our current situation, and I wasn't sure how to reach her. I was finding out that love, respect and caring wasn't enough to understanding what was going on without some real, honest talking. And we weren't particularly good at that.

I decided to use my reasoning mind to analyze our circumstances. The problems all seemed to stem from the fact that everything had changed in the household too suddenly. The children and both families (not to mention friends and neighbors) seemed upset because they weren't informed about our choice to get married. What didn't make sense to me initially was beginning to, particularly since everything happening so quickly was starting to create strain between Phoebe and me. Maybe the romance of the elopement and the uniqueness of our decision to be together forever without any conversation _needed _to be talked about. And perhaps the fact that neither of us could seem to remember _how _we came to actually get married needed to be discussed.

Was it possible my lovely and intuitive wife needed to be courted? We had skipped over spending time alone together: just the two of us going places and doing things most dating couples do - including being public about our relationship. We simply hadn't taken the time to find out about one another in a romantic relationship. Our one date didn't even include dinner, and instead of it ending in a tentative kiss, it ended in a marriage. There wasn't even time for me to actively pursue her – no going out alone on drives or picnics, no long exploratory necking sessions leading up to our honeymoon. I had never brought her flowers or introduced her to my friends as my girlfriend or taken her to any university event… Had I even proposed?

Not only did it appear I had been very remiss in the romance department, but it seemed as if we had both violated some social contract. In our haste to wed, we had forgotten that a marriage not only includes the bride and groom, but their families – and in fact, the entire community. In every culture there is some kind of betrothal announcement so everyone can adjust to the idea of a new marriage. I had lost sight of that fact, and it was almost inexcusable as I had three beautiful children to consider that had been hurt by their omission. There had to be a solution.

We would have a wedding. A celebration of our expanded family was just what was needed. We would take what everyone assumed were the logical steps and invite as many people as we could fit into the backyard. Being public at last should ensure a certain amount of forgiveness – even from the children. We would involve them in the preparations and have it all: the ceremony and the ring and the cake and the toast and dress up enough to satisfy even Prudence. The six weeks before summer vacation should be enough time to make arrangements and to have any available out-of-town family in attendance.

But before I made any more impulsive mistakes I had to take care of one very important thing first: I needed to ask Phoebe to marry me.

**Journal: Hers**

Lately I have been giving much thought to the time my Great Uncle George showed up one Christmas with his new wife – a chorus girl from the Brighton Follies. Many in the family were shocked, she was a mere girl of twenty-two and Uncle George was nearly eighty. I was a teenager at the time and took little notice of the scandal, I was more interested in my new aunt's stories about her travels, but I was aware of how most at that Christmas dinner did not readily accept her into the family. At some point I knew how much this saddened my uncle, and how he seemed to be trying to justify his new marriage. No one actually said anything against the girl, but I knew it took many years before she was fully accepted.

As I think about my new marriage and the responses my family – old and new – I understand how Great Uncle George must have felt. If I wasn't trying to validate my marriage to Hal to my family, I was trying my best to get his family to accept me – particularly the children. I was dismayed when each of them found their own way to isolate themselves from me and from Hal. Breaking curfew, after school detention, more time playing alone – but it was heartening when they each began to refer to me as their stepmother – and one by one called me "Mom". We were slowly getting back to our previous relationship, however I felt as I had in the first weeks after joining this household as a nanny. There was suspicion and coolness at times, not at all like the loving togetherness we were used to experiencing. I had confidence we would all get back to where we had been in time, but it was difficult just the same.

I also knew the children were acting as they had when their mother had died. They saw me as somehow taking their father away from them although nothing had changed between them and Hal. He was as warm and loving towards them as ever, the only difference was now he included me in that love. The children no longer looked away when he kissed or embraced me in front of them, but even after a week or two all three of them were still decidedly uncomfortable knowing I shared a bed with their father and each steadfastly avoided our bedroom.

Only Prudence found the courage to address the situation directly. One afternoon while helping me in the kitchen, she told me she didn't like her room being so far down the hall from everyone else. She asked if I could go back to sleeping in my old room, or if sometimes she could sleep in the room with me and her Daddy. I was glad she wanted to talk about what was obviously a confusing situation for her. I had just begun to answer her in a gentle and appropriate way so her young mind would understand when Hal suddenly came into the room. He had overheard Prudence's question and told her firmly that she would not be sharing her mother and father's bedroom nor was her mother moving out of the room. Hal's literal mind had heard the question as requiring a concrete answer, and did not hear our daughter's underlying need for reassurance in the changing family situation. She jutted out her chin at him and said she was big enough to stay in her own room all night – unless the Wiblet came back. After she walked out of the room he grinned sheepishly at me, until I informed him we could expect another visit from the Wiblet soon.

During the first few weeks of our marriage, the strain of helping the children adjust as well as the ongoing reactions from both of our families, friends, neighbors and even strangers was affecting us. Even after things began to settle, some of the differences between us became more apparent. Our very different ways of viewing things and how we anticipate outcomes found us speaking together far less; as if the joys of the bedroom could take the place of our need to communicate in other ways. I will admit those late nights were more blissful than I could have ever imagined – but I also know there is more to a successful marriage than wonderful intimate relations. I believe I was guilty of falling back on my intuition as a way to understand what Hal was feeling instead of allowing him to _tell _me any of his concerns or problems, and he was effective at hiding those from me. Also, when we were alone together none of those issues ever seemed to be important. I suppose we were like any other newlywed couple by allowing our lovemaking to take priority over nearly every other kind of sharing.

Only most other just married couples didn't have three children to deal with on a daily basis. I knew I was dependent on my "gifts" and didn't want to share my fears or concerns with my new husband. I was so very happy with him I never wanted any problems to shadow our limited time alone. However, I was becoming aware we were both escaping into that intimacy together as a way to avoid the world outside of our bedroom. I knew our decision to marry was the right one, but by not confronting how that decision impacted so many of the people we loved, we were inadvertently putting up a barrier between us. Although my spontaneous Figalilly nature rarely misguided me, I didn't want to misstep at the beginning of what was the most important relationship of my life. We had to find a way to set things right for all of us.

In a flash I knew what needed to be done! If all of our current problems came from how quickly our marriage had come about – then the obvious thing to do to make things right would be to get married again. A large wedding attended by family and friends and a ceremony performed by clergy – a union blessed by God, family, friends and well-wishers. What was missing was the inclusion of _all_ that was important to us. As loving as our relationship was with each other, perhaps we needed all of those spiritual connections and social conventions to completely seal our lives and our families to one another as well. Yes, our elopement was thrilling and romantic and a memory I will treasure forever. However, I will admit to missing that moment of taking my beloved in marriage in front of God and family.

Yes, God is present even in a civil ceremony, but would it be a frivolous notion to want to wear my great-great grandmother's wedding dress and have Hal place a ring on my finger with my parents and sister and stepchildren present? I want very much to celebrate my marriage to Hal, and if that means exchanging vows in front of as many people as we can invite as witnesses, then that is what it means.

This marriage was _not_ a mistake but if our elopement had made so many people unhappy by being omitted, then perhaps we can put things back on their proper course by having a ceremony in front of everyone. In fact, it is a wonderful thing that so very many people want to be involved and present in blessing our marriage. I knew the children would be enthusiastic at being able to play a part in the ceremony that unites not just their father to me; but unites each of them to me as well. In my happiness and excitement over being Hal's bride, I had somehow forgotten the importance in formally _becoming _the mother of his children.

After so many years of travel all over the world and experiencing vastly different cultures, how could the social and individual importance of ritual have escaped me? Hal and I may have been satisfied that a simple exchange of words joined us because in our hearts even that was unnecessary to commit our lives to one another. But there was more involved in our marriage than just the two of us. And maybe, just maybe, the stress we have been feeling between us will start to resolve when we begin to talk about and plan our wedding – all of us – as a family.

There is a small part of me that would have liked more time to be a couple in public before we married. Although I had experience dating, it had been years ago, and I would have liked going out on more than one date with Hal before we eloped. Silly notion now, but I long for the times we could have had going out and sharing romantic evenings. I would have enjoyed meeting his friends socially as his girlfriend and not meeting them fleetingly as his housekeeper. And I wonder about what would have been some very heated and sensual encounters building up to our wedding night. As it happened, there was very little time between our first kiss and our first time making love.

And after an entire lifetime of being betrothed I had very much wanted to hear and accept a marriage proposal from the only man I love.

**Journal: His**

My wedding to Mary was a big Italian wedding with enough food and drink to supply a small city. I felt almost lost among the crowd of friends and relatives, and by the time the festivities were over, we were so tired we almost missed our wedding night. Still, it was a lovely wedding and the beginning of what was to be ten beautiful years of my life. When I'd lost her, I never thought I'd come close again to finding the happiness I had with her. Mary had been a kind and giving woman; she made me promise to find a loving woman to marry and be a good mother to our children. I had agreed, but had never expected to fulfill that oath. Realistically I believed I would marry again, but never to find a woman as wonderful as my Mary.

But all of that was before I had met Phoebe. Although it is unfair to compare the love I had for one woman to the love I have for another – I can honestly say I have never been as happy in my life as I am with Phoebe. I don't believe that dishonors the memory of Mary, but I do know that I have now finally found the one, true love of my life.

Watching her on our wedding day was the greatest joy I had ever experienced. She was so profoundly happy – and to know that I was the one who made her that happy – I don't have the words to express my feelings. Luckily, I am in love with a woman who knows my heart without a word. I looked into those incredible sea blue eyes and couldn't believe – again – that she was really mine. How could this magical woman really come to earth and be my wife? With anyone in the world to choose from – even that irritating ex-fiancé – how could she choose a man so different from her, a man with three kids and a yard full of animals and a modest home? Was I really that lucky?

Apparently I was that lucky. On the day of our wedding – our _second _wedding – the weather was perfect and the back yard was full of family, friends and flowers. My children were brushed and polished and smiling as if they had never been less than ecstatic over our marriage. My brothers were there in new suits and grinning like idiots. Half of the chairs on the grass were filled with eccentric and delighted Figalilly's. And Phoebe's parents were beaming as they walked with her to meet me under the white lattice gate. The gate was covered in red roses, but for once I wasn't sneezing; maybe Phoebe was right and my allergies were all in my imagination. All I knew was that day was absolutely flawless.

The simple ceremony was short, but when the reverend spoke of the presence of God in our marriage, I swear I could feel it right then. Although I have always believed in God, I never considered myself a very spiritual man, but if there is such a thing as conversion to total belief, I know that happened to me then. Gazing into Phoebe's serene face, I knew that she was responsible for the opening up of my heart – to her and to something greater than both of us. And when I placed the band on her finger, I looked at the diamond already on her hand and swore I could see eternity there. Seeing the same sparkle in Phoebe's eyes, I knew I wasn't wrong.

After hours of meeting and greeting everyone – and some who had come from so far away – all I wanted to do was to have my lovely wife all to myself. When the sun began to set, someone suggested a bridal dance. As music poured from the speakers Hal had rigged up outdoors, I searched the crowd for Phoebe. Suddenly she appeared and gently slipped into my arms, pressing close to my heart. I held her securely in that place where only she belonged forever. The cloud of her white veil seemed to surround both of us as she raised her face to mine and smiled that angelic smile just for me. The smooth, rich voice of Etta James seemed to float on the smoky blue air of the rising dusk and she seemed to be singing to us:

**At last, my love has come along**

**My lonely days are over**

**And life is like a song**

Although we had eloped over two months ago, that night seemed like the start of our real marriage. Not only were we blissful, but now all of our family was accepting and joyful as well. Friends, co-workers and neighbors were now content that this was an honest and lasting love – no union of convenience or circumstance that had thrown us together or made our commitment necessary. We had chosen one another and whatever power, mystical or magical or spiritual that was at play, I thanked heaven for bringing Phoebe to me. Never taking my eyes from her I saw her just as I had that first morning so long ago.

**Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile**

**Oh, and then the spell was cast **

**And here we are in heaven**

**For you are mine **

**At last**

**XXXXXXXXX**

They say guilt is a useless emotion. I would agree that is mostly true – unless someone's guilt works in your favor. My tycoon brother Ben felt so guilty over what he had implied was an improper relationship between Phoebe and me before we were married that he gave us an all-expense paid 30-day luxury Mediterranean cruise for a wedding present! I would have objected strenuously if he hadn't assured me his business connections made the whole thing affordable and besides, Bob was paying for our flight to Monte Carlo to meet the ship. I marveled not only at their generosity, but at their financial acumen. That kind of vacation would have had to wait until our silver wedding anniversary – if not our golden anniversary – for me to pay for on a professor's salary.

I graciously accepted the trip for both of us, then rushed to tell Phoebe to start packing – and shopping. I certainly didn't have the sort of clothes appropriate for that kind of trip and I knew she didn't either. I had wanted to spoil her a little and this sort of spending spree was just the right thing. She was always so careful and thrifty I wanted her to have fun with the money. As our families and friends had been more than generous with wedding presents; I couldn't help wondering if there wasn't more than one guilty conscious at work. Still, I wasn't in a position to question things. I had the feeling that our expanding family was going to keep expanding, and with those extra expenses we wouldn't have the opportunity to splurge like this again for a very long time.

As it turned out, financial generosity wasn't the only kind of generosity our family would display. The kids' grandparents – both maternal sets – offered to take them on vacations during our extended honeymoon. This way they could also spend time with their aunts, uncle and cousins as well and get to know Phoebe's parents and sister. All three kids were so excited about their adventure they hardly seemed to care we'd be away for a whole month. Of course, we would all have over a month together before the school year started in September, so we'd have some extended time to spend as a family without work and school interfering.

I was beginning to feel our sins of omission had finally been forgiven by nearly everyone. However, I knew we had true absolution when the kids said goodbye to us. They made more of a fuss parting from Phoebe than from me – Hal hugged her tightly, Butch had tears in his eyes, and Prudence was sniffling when she said: "Goodbye, Mommy. I'll miss you so much!" I would have felt slighted if I wasn't so overjoyed. I hugged all three of them and exchanged sloppy kisses on the cheek with Prudence. As usual, I felt a pang of loneliness when leaving my children, until I turned all of my attention to Phoebe.

We couldn't have received a better present. The month alone on the Mediterranean was more than just a lavish vacation; it was an extended 30-day courtship. For a couple that hadn't spent one entire evening on a "date" to be able to experience day after day and week after week having only fun times together – it was paradise. On board ship there were always plenty of daytime activities and I learned a lot about my wife playing games with her. She was an expert with a pool cue and when skeet shooting. I knew she could beat me at chess regularly, but I hadn't known she would keep me on my toes playing poker. Phoebe's friendliness and sparkling personality attracted plenty of people to her, but as we weren't the only honeymooning couple, we spent most of our time in one another's company exclusively. Often I think she maneuvered the situation so we would be alone, and I didn't mind her running interference in that way in the least.

If I enjoyed Phoebe's playful character (not to mention her parade of colorful bikinis) during the day, I adored her sophisticated evening personality. How she could always look so elegant yet so sexy intrigued me. After years of seeing her only in modest clothing, the dresses she wore constantly surprised me – I had no idea that she would wear things so stylish or alluring, and I could see other men noticed that too. She was consistently charming at dinner and we never seemed to run out of things to say to one another. At night we visited the ship's casino, and the nightclubs, and always found time for an evening walk along the deck. Since we both loved to dance we took advantage of participating in that activity most nights. Phoebe was always quiet and sensual in my arms when dancing, and knew without speaking when it was time to return to our stateroom.

Like most couples on their honeymoon we spent a great deal of time in our luxurious stateroom. Well, maybe we spent more time there than most couples. There was such a sense of freedom and indulgence to be able to slip away at any time to be alone together. We had no children to worry about interrupting us, no ringing telephones or doorbells, and no prying eyes of neighbors wondering why the upstairs shades were drawn at midday. Nothing to do but please ourselves and no one to question or judge us – if we didn't leave our room for breakfast or lunch or even dinner – no one cared. If we left the pool area after ten minutes of rubbing suntan lotion on one another, no one asked us where we were going or why. And if we snuggled on a chaise lounge together or were kissing on the deck in the moonlight, no one would ever think to stop us – if they even noticed us. No, the extravagance of this month was a journey of discovery about my marriage to Phoebe that was filled with as much passion as it was filled with love. If the rest of our years together held even a fraction of the wonder and joy that we experienced in those thirty days, then I would be a happy and content man the rest of my life.

The days and especially the nights on board ship were wonderful, but what I loved best during that month was exploring cities with Phoebe. She was a much more experienced traveler than I, but I didn't consider myself a typical American tourist either. We never took advantage of the tour groups provided by the cruise line, or connected with any sightseeing packages. We had an extravagant night in Monte Carlo before catching the ship, an evening where Phoebe mysteriously almost "broke the bank". We ended up spending nearly all of her ill gotten gains on every other stop on the cruise: Monaco, Venice, Rome, Naples and Athens. And in each city, whether we rented a car or bicycles or motorcycles, between the two of us we somehow never lost our way. We both spoke some French, and my rudimentary Italian came in handy much of the time, but Phoebe shocked me with her facility with Greek.

During our time in Rome we revisited some of the places I had been with Mary. That was a bittersweet experience, and as was typical for me I didn't talk much about how it made me feel. Phoebe seemed to sense my change in mood, and would wander away and allow me time with my memories. Then she would come up beside me and quietly take my hand, letting me know she understood my need for private thoughts. I was so grateful for her unconditional acceptance and deep love and respect for me, that there were no words. I would kiss her then, trying to express to her how fortunate I knew I was in finding the precious jewel I had in her. But I would never be maudlin for long. Phoebe's mercurial nature would have us discovering some area of the city where I'd never been before, and the adventure of finding something new would dispel any lingering sadness.

I knew that Phoebe had traveled the Mediterranean extensively before, but she made me feel as if everywhere we went was a brand new experience for her. She assured me that seeing these places again _was_ like the first time – because she was there with me. I felt the same, not only in our travels, but in our exploration of one another. Many of my honeymoon memories are filled not only with the fun of seeing new places together, but the delight in discovering the exotic sensual nature of my beautiful wife. My previous knowledge of other lovers meant nothing when I was with her. If during our first two months of "marital bliss" we had uncovered some joyful erotic pleasures, being completely alone for the first time made each new intimate encounter more enticing than the last. Our growing familiarity with one another somehow became more exciting and more satisfying. We were certainly free and unfettered away from daily responsibilities, but what we were discovering together brought us both to places we knew we would never journey without the other.

Whether deeply kissing on a slow moving gondola at dusk in Venice, making love in a rocking rented sailboat in the Bay of Naples, or licking coconut oil off of her shoulders on a secluded beach outside of Athens, I knew I was doing things with her I would never do with any other woman. Phoebe made me feel aroused and contented at the same time; as if I were rediscovering these moments with her, as if I had always known her sweet face and fevered body, and I would never, ever be without her again. Making love with her was never only a physical experience – it was always as if I were coming home in my beloved's arms – and that inside of her was where most of my restless soul resided and found peace.

I have difficulty believing my ordered, scientific mind thinks in term of ephemeral things like souls and God and even entertains the idea of past lives. In spite of needing and wanting to be together almost constantly, at times I sat on the deck alone and wrote in my journal. I needed some time separate from Phoebe to catch up on my thoughts, especially when I was overwhelmed and lost in my feelings for her. Although it was a wonderful sensation to lose myself in her, it could be frightening at times. And as the perfect month of our honeymoon was beginning to come to an end, I started to wonder how we would transition back to our day-to-day lives. We had left things with everyone on a happy note – but would that last? And although Phoebe and I were getting along beautifully, we had very little to create tension when everyday was spent eating gourmet meals, playing games, swimming, resting in the sun, exploring port cities, dancing, and making love. Even our conversations had evolved to be all about the little universe of luxury around us. Sooner than later work, the kids, and household tasks would intrude into our cocoon. Had any of those communication problems that had so concerned me earlier been resolved during this month of peerless ecstasy?

I walked back to our cabin wanting a shower before dinner. I was smiling at the thought that there was a very good chance I could talk Phoebe into joining me. When I opened the stateroom door I found her sitting on the balcony. She looked up and seemed rather startled to see me: on the table before her was an open journal.

**Journal: Hers**

Hal's proposal was as romantic as I ever could have wished for – even if it did take place in our bedroom. He was down on one knee and presented me with the most beautiful antique diamond ring I had ever seen. The heirloom looked as if it was created as the perfect compliment to my wedding dress and it fit on my finger as if it were made for my hand. Without telling me I knew that the ring had never been worn by Mary. I didn't ask the reason. I knew Hal would tell me in time if the details were important.

After celebrating our "engagement" in a most untraditional way for a recently betrothed Figalilly, I was awake most of the night planning our wedding. Much of the time I gathered my inspiration by gazing at his ring on my finger. As I lay with my hand on Hal's bare chest, I was calmed by his even, steady breaths. In silence I watched as moonlight slipped through the open window and made its way across the bedding to us. I was intrigued by the contrast of the moonlight flashing fire in the cold stone and the beating fire in the warm heart that lay just beneath my hand.

I know that many men believe planning a wedding is an effortless thing. Most men think you simply order the food, drink and flowers and tell people where and when to come and – poof – it is all done by magic. And I know that Hal believes – against his better and sound logical judgment – that I can perform magic. At least he believes that when it is more convenient for him. And it was more convenient for him to believe that I could plan and organize a wedding in six weeks than for him to become involved in the work. Oh, he was more than generous with money and was generally cooperative when I gave him tasks to complete – he just didn't have a clue as to the difficulties when coordinating such a celebration. In his defense, he did handle inviting all of his family and friends, but the rest was my responsibility – including involving the children.

Luckily I was born well-organized. Hal may think he is the one in the family with the well-ordered brain, but in truth he can be a bit scattered. I accept that about him as I believe most scientists are as creative and impractical in their thinking as artists. That's how they get their inspiration and achieve their successes. And I love Hal dearly and wouldn't change one thing about him.

In spite of the planning frenzy, our wedding day was perfect. The children actually behaved (and looked) like angels; they were so happy to be involved in making the wedding happen. Hal took care of the technical things like hooking up the stereo and lights, Butch got a group of friends together to haul and set up the chairs in the garden, and Prudence endeared herself to Mrs. Fowler by helping her cut and arrange flowers. My Aunt Henrietta had actually come around to accepting my marriage and with the aid of her sisters, Aunt Agatha and Aunt Justine, managed to do most of the cooking – except for the wedding cake. Evidently Hal's Great Aunt Adelaide had made every wedding cake for every Everett wedding since she was a teenager and no one interfered with that tradition. And I have to admit: it was an absolutely gorgeous cake and simply delicious!

I was so happy on our wedding day I didn't really care if my careful organizing happened as I'd planned or not. Our families were there giving us their blessings and that's all that mattered. Walking behind Prudence as she scattered rose petals, my loving parents escorted me through a yard full of smiling friends and family. I knew we had been forgiven for the sin of omitting so many caring people from such a huge life changing decision. Still, it really was only Hal that was important to me. Seeing him nervously waiting for me with the reverend and the boys at his side, I only had eyes for him. Was this wonderful man really mine at last? Mine in front of God and family and all of these witnesses? Was this man really able to see past all of the differences between us – and our families – and love me and accept me for who I am? Was he fully able to love only me now – to let go of his past love and embrace the future with me?

Reaching him I saw the truth in those impossibly beautiful eyes. If I saw only him; I knew he could see only me. As the reverend blessed our union I could feel the very presence of God between us and around us and touching every soul present. I felt something change in Hal in just that instant, and knew we were bound forever. Then we exchanged our simple bands, the closed circle of the eternal.

The wedding party was joyful and I knew we had done the right thing. Family and well- wishers mingled and there were more toasts than I'd ever heard at a wedding before! Hal's brothers and his friends, my father and my uncles, and even the boys wanted their turn toasting us with fruit punch. The women weren't content to be left out of the congratulations, and by the end of all of those sips of champagne the crowd was giddy and I was feeling a little light-headed myself. When I heard the music for our bridal dance I was very relieved.

My handsome husband was looking a bit befuddled as he looked around the crowd for me. Enfolded in his arms I steadied us both by holding him close. Leaning into him I pressed my cheek to his chest to hear that strong heart beating just for me. I felt him hold me closer and slowly my heart fell into rhythm with his. Looking up into his face I smiled at him and held my breath in anticipation of his answering smile. When I heard the lyrics of "At Last" begin he smiled at me, and in his sky blue eyes I could see us soaring together forever.

**Oh, yeah,** **at last  
><strong>**The skies above are blue  
>My heart was wrapped up in clovers<br>The night I looked at you**  
><strong>I found a dream that I could speak to<br>A dream that I can call my own****I found a thrill to rest my cheek to  
>A thrill that I have never known<strong>

I remembered all of those thrilling dreams we had shared before we had ever gathered the courage to be together. And although we have been married for over two months, those dreams threaten to make me blush tonight. For this wedding begins our real marriage to one another. This is the first night our union is really and truly blessed – by clergy and by family and friends – and our first wedding night is tonight. However we have finally come to be together, I know the heavens have blessed us.

**For you are mine **

**At last**

**XXXXXXXXX**

The next afternoon I was sitting quietly visiting with my mother and sister in the kitchen. I think my mother believed it was her duty to have some sort of "talk" with me, although I had been a married woman for months now and had had a second "wedding night" the night before. She still seemed to want to say something to me when Hal rushed into the kitchen. He pulled me up out of the chair and into a big excited hug to tell me his brothers had given us an all-expense paid luxury cruise in the Mediterranean – for thirty days! My immediate thoughts were of the children – but he continued on to say Mary's parents had

volunteered to take them on vacation. That's when my mother seemed to find her voice. Glancing at Cecily quickly she said she and father – and Cecily – would like to mind the children while we were away also. She was so thrilled about having three grandchildren that she wanted them all to get well acquainted as soon as possible. Both Hal and I were so surprised – and touched – that we couldn't refuse, even if we wanted to.

Before Hal left to find the children he told me I'd need to do some wardrobe shopping – for both of us – before the cruise. With a wink he said there was plenty of cash and he wanted me to have fun with it – then he kissed my cheek and left me wondering if he had any idea at all about the woman he had married. I looked at my mother and sister in bewilderment. Although Hal had no way of knowing, I was known as The Frugal Figalilly Sister. Fortunately my family always had plenty of money, but my sister was the one with the inclination towards shopping. Now Cecily grinned at me and said The Frivolous Figalilly Sister would come to my rescue when we hit all of the fashionable shops tomorrow.

I had to admit, the longer I spent in those shops buying clothing the easier it all became. Cecily had marvelous taste, and I did enjoy imagining how Hal would appreciate some of the sexy evening dresses and cocktail dresses that flattered my figure. The casual outfits and sportswear were more my style, but Cecily insisted I needed to allow my groom to show off his beautiful bride with a little evening glamour too. We stopped at a salon where she fussed with my hair and make-up reassuring me she was current on what was fashionable on luxury cruises. After lunch we started to look for beach attire and lingerie and I was almost shocked at some of Cecily's choices. We tussled over a few things, but I knew she was right that Hal would prefer most of the more daring items. I knew I was blushing as I paid for the purchases and while the saleswoman pretended not to notice, Cecily hugged me and whispered "newlywed" to her. The older woman smiled wisely and assured me most of the nightwear and undergarments wouldn't get much wear on a honeymoon anyway. I still don't know how I managed to get out of that store with my eyes closed so tightly!

I had much more fun and was much less embarrassed buying clothing for Hal. He rarely spent any money on himself, and I was determined to spend more on his wardrobe than on my own. Such a handsome man, yet he never showed one bit of vanity about his appearance. He did have a tuxedo, but could use at least another suit, a few new sports jackets, trousers, dress shirts, polo shirts and shorts. Cecily was surprised I didn't blush or hesitate when buying his beachwear or undergarments. I guess I was acting like a wife in one respect and that made me proud. By the end of the day all that was left was shoe shopping, and I knew my sister would want to spend half of the next day doing that. Hal already had enough shoes (or so he said), so with a little bit of luck we would make our flight at the end of the week. That is as long as he made all of his clothing alteration appointments on time.

If I had believed the weeks after our elopement had been stressful, and the weeks planning the wedding had been difficult, the week between the wedding and the honeymoon was its own emotional rollercoaster. Hal seemed to go along with all of it, but somehow coping with so many out-of-town family and guests was more of a strain for me. I was a lucky woman to have such an easy-going husband, even if his temper did get the better of him at times. Generally he was more at ease when the college was on a break, so as I was uncharacteristically more on edge than he was and he was the one calming me. And although I didn't enjoy being flustered, I must say he had some spectacular ways of relaxing me.

There was a very emotional "send off" and _our _children were simply wonderful. If I hadn't wanted and needed this time alone with Hal, I would have insisted on canceling the trip and staying with the children. However, they were looking forward to their own adventures and we would all have time together as a family before the school year started. Still, I had tears in my eyes when we hugged and kissed them goodbye. I think I would have cried all the way to Monte Carlo if I hadn't looked up and caught the predatory gleam in Hal's eyes. He was happily anticipating what he called our "extended 30-day courtship" and if the seductive way he was looking at me was any clue, we were at the start of a very long and very exciting "date".

I'd been on many cruises before and knew there was no end of delicious food, drink or amusements. I liked games and activities, but mostly I had fun on cruises by getting to know my fellow passengers. Not this time. This time I was only interested in one playmate: Hal. We would swim together most days (where he could show off his swim team captain physique) or play deck tennis. He didn't like when I would beat him at anything, but that didn't stop me from playing my best. He won plenty of times whether we were playing board games, card games or in the casino. Mostly we didn't spend much time with those distractions – we found we easily distracted one another anyway. And there was such freedom being able to indulge – and not escape – into moments of intimacy whenever we chose.

As Uncle Reggie said; "Days are for the earthbound mind; evenings are to let the spirit soar." And soar we did. I loved going out on the "town" with my husband every night – the gourmet meals I didn't have to cook, not worrying about an extra glass of wine, the slow, romantic strolls on the deck, and the dancing! I found out just how well my handsome husband wore a tuxedo – and just how attractive other women found him. And I received a tiny thrill when I saw a flash of jealousy behind those brilliant blue eyes when he realized a man was noticing me. He would stand near as if guarding me against the attention, or he'd pull me closer on the dance floor. I'd always known he was a possessive lover, but it was exciting to experience all the same.

The luxurious ship was fabulous, but I mostly enjoyed being in so many different cities with Hal. Although it was true I'd been to most of those places before, it was also true that it was a wholly different experience being there with him. He was so much fun to explore those old cities with – whether walking or biking or driving. Between us we knew enough French, Italian and Greek to get by but as we'd spent most of our time alone we didn't need to speak often to the natives. During most of my travels I loved getting to know the local people, but this time everyone faded into the background. This time was for _us_and I didn't want to share my wonderful husband with anyone.

However, I did discover I would have to share a part of Hal with his memories of Mary. In Rome I knew he was thinking of her; how could he not? He had met and fallen in love with her there, and if she were a part of him, she was a part of me too. I couldn't be jealous of the love they had shared, it was what had made him the man he is now, the man I loved with all of my heart. And Mary had been the woman that made this man the husband and father he was now – and they were her children I loved as my own. How could I feel anything but love for the woman who loved the man who would father my own children? I left Hal alone with his memories of his past love for a time, then joined him and brought him back to the love that was his now and forever.

I so enjoyed revisiting this part of the world and seeing all of these favorite places with the man I adored. But the real adventure was having Hal all to myself and exploring _him. _Being away from home and responsibilities allowed us both the time and the freedom to enjoy one another. Never having that kind of experience, I was sometimes overwhelmed by the sensual appetites of my husband. He was a knowledgeable lover, tender and patient and very capable of arousing me quickly and completely. I hadn't known such a sophisticated and intelligent man could be so creative and playful. He never made love the same way twice; he always took to delighting me with new and different possibilities. During our first two months of marriage we had what I believed was a very fulfilling and exciting sexual life. However, in just a few days on our honeymoon I discovered my husband's intimate repertoire was more varied and thrilling than my mind could imagine. And while my body had no difficulties keeping up, sometimes my mind lagged behind.

Somehow I knew most of the erotic experimentation was new for Hal as well. Was it possible that we were creating these joys simply for one another? I was always surprised that there was nothing I found objectionable – I was only overwhelmed because of the newness of it all. I liked when he kissed me in public, and enjoyed when I knew I was exciting him – so much was achieved with a suggestive look or even a provocative article of clothing. I was at last glad I had taken most of Cecily's ideas about my new wardrobe, although how she knew so much did make me wonder.

As much as I had learned about Hal and myself these past weeks, most of what was between us didn't have a physical reality. Even when making love, I could feel his soul as completely as I did his body. We were so close at times it was difficult to separate. I knew part of the reason we wanted and needed to be together so much was because our time alone was precious. Soon we would be returning to our usual lives and an outside world that demanded other things from us. And as much as we both loved and missed the children, they were an intrusion into our perfect intimacy.

But we did spend time separate from one another. I enjoyed sitting alone on the balcony outside of our stateroom and utilized that time to write in my journal. No matter how much soaring my Figalilly nature does, I needed to sit and collect my thoughts. Deeply involved in my writing I didn't hear the cabin door open. Then I felt his presence and looked up to see Hal standing in the doorway with a leather journal under his arm.

**Journal: His**

There are times when I find myself intrigued by my own fascination with women and particularly fascinated by my wife. I never knew Phoebe kept a journal, I didn't think she would need to keep one. She was so intuitive and aware of other people's emotions; I just assumed her own emotional clarity was a certainty. While I stood in the doorway of our stateroom with my journal tucked under my arm, I could tell she hadn't known I kept one either. I didn't know why, but I was a little embarrassed for her to know this, as if a strong man shouldn't need a place to write out daily concerns and worries – I shouldn't need to get "in touch" on my emotions – I was a _scientist _for goodness sake and should understand all of my reactions and responses.

Phoebe had smiled at me and held out her hand in an invitation to join her. Always beautiful, she looked particularly lovely with her golden hair catching the low red rays of the setting sun. I crossed the room to the balcony and sitting beside her, took her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. She glanced at the leather-bound book I carried then looked at me with a question in her deep blue eyes – eyes as dark and fathomless as the ocean surrounding us.

I tried to make light of it and told her I was keeping track of where we had been and all of our extravagances. She said nothing, but I could tell she didn't believe me. So as I gazed into those guileless eyes and revealed to her that _she_ was the reason I started to keep a journal in the first place. I had never felt the need to get my personal thoughts and emotions down on paper until a few months ago. I explained that when I realized my attraction and affection for her had developed into something stronger, I needed to get in touch with what I was feeling and decide what – if anything – I wanted to do about it. Then our one date suddenly evolved into a situation that had me turning to my journal often in an attempt to sort out my thoughts and feelings.

Stroking her hand I became aware that although my journaling had been a good thing, it was perhaps too introspective and isolating. Running things over in my own mind when I should have been talking things over with Phoebe appeared to have gotten us into some difficulty. And I could tell by her shy smile that she was thinking something very similar. Maybe the real sin of omission here was each of us leaving the other out of our private thoughts, worries, feelings and needs. Maybe if we had discussed our real feelings for one another before our impromptu marriage we could have saved a lot of hurt – including the pain we had accidentally caused for one another.

I knew we were both intensely private people and took our independence very seriously. I had always felt I could handle any situation alone, and I had complete confidence that Phoebe could take care of anything. I had to admit I relied on her competency and autonomy – she wasn't a woman I would need to take care of in any sense including emotionally. But that's where I was wrong. Strength, self-reliance and a need to guard some secrets must be balanced with healthy respect and comfortable sharing if we wanted our relationship to work. I knew I felt safe with her; I needed to know she was safe enough with me to share more than bedroom intimacies. And although I knew we shared a connection that didn't need words, there were times when we both needed to speak, and we both needed the other to listen.

Gazing down at the light colored book on the table before her, I stroked the soft leather with one finger. Inside were the workings of her mind, the expressions of her thoughts and feelings; the things I needed to hear her say and to know about her. Sometimes my linear mind is not comfortable with emotions or Phoebe's flights of fancy. But I do know I have also become dependent on her intuition to save me from expressing uncomfortable and often messy feelings. Respecting her need for time alone and privacy, I tell her I will never violate the sanctuary of her journal, but hope we can learn to share some of those internal things about one another. Then, knowing she needed to understand that I trusted her, I opened my journal and began to read to her.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Not surprisingly, we talked long into the night – all night, in fact. At one point we ordered dinner and moved the conversation into the bedroom, but all we did was talk. I held her while she read passages from her journal to me; she talked more about how she had felt than what was written there. And she finally told me many things about her past that she had never shared before – things that had me laughing - and a few things that had us both in tears. For the first time she cried in my arms, and I was able to kiss away those tears and caress her tenderly without my touch becoming a prelude to sex. I was learning sex wasn't the only way to be intimate or the only or best way to communicate. When the sky turned from black velvet to indigo silk, we both discovered we'd spent the first night of our married life doing something besides making love – then we realized this was just another way of making love – two voices speaking and two hearts listening.

As the sky lightened and the dawn reached our bed, the sun began to kiss her hair and skin. Taking my cue from those gentle rays I pressed my lips to her flawless cheeks, her sleek neck and smooth shoulders. Phoebe's white flesh was now a light bronze from all of her time under bright Mediterranean skies and she seemed to glow in the sunshine. As I uncovered more of her to the light and heat, she stretched and arched her back like a cat greeting the day. True to her feline nature, she spent long moments purring under the warmth of my hands and mouth before suddenly reaching out both hands to scratch lightly at my neck and shoulders. When I growled at her she laughed at me, a musical, delighted laugh I had never heard in bed before and wanted to hear much more often. I laughed too; then rolled with her playfully across the mattress until she was pinned beneath me and we were both breathless.

Phoebe whispered to me then, soft words I'd never heard her say: after telling me she loved me, she told me how much she loved making love with me, what she particularly enjoyed between us in bed and what she wanted and needed from me. Her sultry voice was alluring, and her honest words were arousing. Our months of non-verbal love making were intense and immensely satisfying; but this new way of communicating was very enticing – words of love and desire from my proper British wife – words I knew she had never said before and would never say to another, words she would never write in her journal, words only I would ever hear. I was grateful we had a few more days left on our honeymoon, this kind of exploration was far more interesting and exciting than visiting any other place together – this was the foundation of a new way of being with one another, of making new memories, of making a new life, and possibly of creating a new life.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

I find it difficult to believe just a few short months ago I started this journal to get some things straight in my mind. I was confused about my feelings for my children's bright and bubbly nanny and I ended up with her becoming my intelligent and loving wife. My introspection finally led to some real sharing and any errors I made seem to have been forgiven – by my friends, my family, my kids, my wife – and I've even forgiven myself. I still keep up the journal as things are actually more complicated in my life now than when I first started writing. And this is still a good place to clear my head. Sometimes I feel the need to share these entries with Phoebe, sometimes not. She sometimes reads to me from her journal or tells me what she has written. Both journals stay in plain sight of one another but we know our secrets are safe – we only know what is inside when the other wants to share. We still have incredible non-verbal communication, both inside of the bedroom and outside of the bedroom, but we're not so dependent on it anymore. We've each found that talking and listening to one another is a better way to build our marriage and our family.

The school year has started and I'm back in my den looking over the quizzes I've given to my new classes. I don't know how it is possible, but I think they know less and less every year. The kids are all back in school with varying amounts of enthusiasm. I know Hal will stay in school through post-doctoral work and probably end up an academician like me, but if we can get Butch to hang in there long enough to complete high school that will be an achievement. Of course Prudence has all of the excitement of any second grader, although she does show promise academically. As for any other children…

No, no news to report, but I do find myself looking forward to having another child. I don't know if my excitement stems from the fact that I actually want more kids, or if I just can't wait to see Phoebe pregnant. I know she'll be the most wonderful, natural, happy and contented mother anywhere. She has always been so wonderful with our kids I can imagine the joy she will have with our own baby. And I will admit to being curious about the kind of child we will create: a combination of scientific wonder and mystical faith born into an ever changing world with expanding knowledge on both fronts. Of course, like any parent I just want a healthy, happy baby – is it asking too much that she look just like my Phoebe?

I'm finally finishing up here for the night. Where is Phoebe now? The kids should be in bed and we could have a quiet talk.

**Journal: Hers**

There are times I feel very content with my present circumstances. And the past few months of my life couldn't have been happier. I began this journal to get a few things straight in my mind specifically it turns out, about Hal. But I have needed to keep it up, particularly in times of stress and strain, and I have had my share recently. I had kept a journal previously, but most of the entries were about places I'd been and people I'd met, nothing as detailed or emotional as what I've written lately. And as much as I've felt the need to express my emotions on paper and found it helpful – it is not something I ever expected Hal to have done.

He joined me at the table on the balcony with a self-consciousness that was rare for him. Grinning, he tried to say the journal he carried was no more than a travelogue or an expense ledger. However, I knew that wasn't the entire truth. In the light of the setting sun the sky turned a darker azure; Hal's expressive eyes reflected that same deep color and were even more vivid in contrast to his Mediterranean tan. He held my hand as I held his gaze, and he knew he couldn't hide anything from me.

As I listened to his explanation about his journal, I was surprised at how alike our thinking actually was. We had even begun our journaling at the same time for the same reasons! All of my life I had been betrothed to a man very similar to me. I suppose I expected my husband would anticipate me as well as I could anticipate him, and talking would be very unnecessary. Now I need to learn to listen to what my husband needs to say as well as learn to say what he needs to hear. How ironic we had both chosen the safety of writing out those thoughts and emotions instead of actually expressing them to one another. We had both "gotten in touch" with our feelings, but neglected to tell the other – until the demonstration of those feelings led us to incredible but not very efficient non-verbal communication. And as much as we had hurt others by omitting them from our hasty elopement; what we really did was unintentionally hurt one another.

I understood more about my husband than I realized, but not from any inborn Figalilly intuition. I understood him because as much as I was attracted to him and loved him for our differences, at our core we were very much the same. We were outgoing and social people, but we both fiercely guarded our privacy. I will admit to letting very few people know the _real _me; and I daresay Hal is the same way. And we are both so independent – and so used to being alone – that we held back instead of genuine sharing with one another our feelings, fears and concerns. The strength we each have as individuals and the love and respect we share for one another must evolve into a balanced _interdependence _together_. _The smooth, working relationship we had when I performed a professional role in his home must translate into our intimate domestic lives.

I looked at my solid, scientist of a husband and realized he was opening up to me in a way he had never done before – with anyone. The love and trust we have for each other can no longer rely on my intuition – or his. And there can be no more evasion and circumlocution. The time had come for total honesty between us: Hal understood this when he opened up his journal and began reading to me.

**XXXXXXXXX**

In our short marriage we had spent many sleepless nights, but never just talking. Still newlyweds, we had much to learn about one another and that night was when our real education began. I was amazed by my husband. Although we had lived together for over two years, our impetuous elopement had us passing over stages in our romantic relationship. And just like a child who cannot walk before he crawls, there were things we needed to know about one another and to say to one another and to hear from one another if we wanted our marriage to thrive. Our honeymoon experience did much to give us a beautiful courtship together, but there were other experiences more vital. That night we read to one another from our journals and laughed and cried together in ways as intimate as making love – it was making love – I could hear his heart and feel his soul and knew we were on a journey for eternity together.

With the dawn we were both exhausted and exhilarated. The sun seemed more dazzling that morning, and when Hal began to kiss me I felt as if I were coming alive under his hands and his lips – unfolding like a flower to greet him. His olive skin was a dark burnish golden color all over and I couldn't resist tousling his thick, black hair as he leaned over me for another kiss. The deep growl in his throat made me laugh, and his teeth flashed white when he laughed with me. Arms around his neck, I held on tight as he rolled me across the mattress until I was beneath him. He looked boyish and happy and carefree and completely mine.

I whispered that I loved him, and said things to him I knew he had longed to hear me say. Hal knew those things already, but I was finding out how necessary it was for him to listen to my words of love and desire for him – and I loved being able to excite him this way. And it was thrilling to hear his low, seductive baritone whispering words to me I knew he'd never said to another, words he'd never written, words I needed to hear only from him. I was amazed at how just listening to Hal's voice could make me feel – the perfect complement to our months of making love with very few words. We were communicating on every level of consciousness now – finding out early in our relationship we couldn't escape from one another even in our dreams. I was so happy we had more time left alone on our honeymoon to discover these new things together – the ancient cities of Europe could wait for us to visit – we no longer wanted to wait to explore each other.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Months ago I began this journal to organize my thoughts. The confused and decidedly improper thoughts and feelings I was having towards my employer needed straightening out immediately. I was only in this household to fulfill a role and prepare the home for a new wife and mother. I had no idea at the time that _I _was to become that wife and mother! Opening up my thoughts and emotions onto the page led to introspection, sharing, and eventually some sins of omission. Those sins were ultimately granted absolution from family, friends, the children, Hal, and I even granted absolution to myself. However, despite forgiveness and new understanding, I do continue to write in this journal as a good practice for clearing out my thoughts. Being a new wife and mother is more complicated than merely being a nanny – even as good as a nanny as I was. At times I feel the need for privacy with what I have written; at other times I want to share what I have written with Hal. We both keep our journals where the other has total access to read what is inside – but neither of us would take that liberty without permission. Trust and respect has always been the hallmark of our relationship and will remain so as we build our marriage and our family.

Things are back to what is normal in this household. After spending the remainder of the summer together and enjoying an extended camping trip (during which my husband complained about the lack of privacy between us), Hal is back to work and the children are all in school. The year promises to be a good one for everyone: Hal is excited about some new computer at the university; Prudence becomes a Brownie; Butch continues doing well in sports and young Hal is invited to attend some advanced math and science classes. I have reorganized the house, including finally moving all of my things into Hal's bedroom – _our _bedroom. Clearing out my old room I noticed what a wonderful, sunny nursery that room would make…

Well, I'm not _one hundred percent _certain, but if I were to take what I know intuitively as well as some calculations to my mathematician husband, he'd probably confirm the odds were well within our favor of expanding our family in the very, very near future. Of course I want a child and in spite of the change and disruption a baby will create – I know Hal very much wants another one too. We have discussed it – both verbally and non-verbally – and agree: we can't wait to meet the kind of child we will create together. The wanderlust and spontaneity of a Figalilly and the down-to-earth pragmatism of an Everett should make for a very interesting individual – or individuals – indeed. I must admit to some first-time mother jitters – all I want is a healthy, happy child. Is it asking too much that she has Hal's eyes?

The house is entirely quiet as I sit here in the kitchen. I know Hal is in his den and wants to talk to me. The children are all in bed and the time is right for us to have a quiet talk.


End file.
